I hope God gives me 30 seconds before my last breath, to remember:
I want to taste again that first chocolate sunday with dribbles on my chin, my taste budds blowing bubbles at me,
I want to hear anew that first AM radio blues tune with Ray Charles dragging on one note, forever, “I want to know”
I want to feel again, that bad clutch and groan of my broken motorcycle going from first to second gear,
I want to remember how it felt to play my music my first time. Dressed in plastic white and red jacket, that solo in front of neighbors, teachers, and strangers,
I want to read again my first quiver of fear from Edgar Allen Poe,
and, I want that first “spin the bottle” kiss, splayed on my lips clumsy as a hell, but feeling all that, spreading twixt brain and groin,
I want to see again, the birth of my beautiful children,
And, dammit, I want to see my friends in pose of their best, those that accepted my gaffs, my bumps, my mistakes, and still talked to me
Give me that little, and God can shove me where it is right, I will go as a lamb
Let the record show, the smiles have it, and the tears be damned.
I know God has smiles aplenty, for low people like me.
Maybe you, too?